


Metamorphosis One

by bespokenboy



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Violence, mentioned prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespokenboy/pseuds/bespokenboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin reluctantly travels through lives and universes. Each day Jongin lives is a different life, but it always ends the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosis One

  
The first time it happens, Jongin is too young to understand the vicious cycle that will plague him every single day of his miserable existence. He’s also too young to understand that his name is Kim Jongin, and the infant resting in the cradle next to his is named Kim Joonmyun. He’s too young to really be aware of what is happening around him or to have any type of premonition of Joonmyun’s death, which would occur by midnight.   
  
In fact, although he is wide awake, Jongin’s infant mind can’t process the muted shuffling or the shadows shifting across the walls of their nursery about ten minutes before midnight. A dark, indistinguishable figure stops in front of Jongin's cradle. The figure lingers for a moment, until Jongin coos and reaches his hand out. Seeing that Jongin is awake, the figure moves over to the next crib, where Joonmyun is gently dozing.   
  
Joonmyun was silent from birth, barely whimpering during his first few breaths of life. He is silent in sleep, the minute rise and fall of his tiny chest the only indication of life. He is even silent in death, as the dark figure plunges a gleaming dagger through his tiny heart.   
  
The figure slips away from the moonlit orphanage as the village clock tower strikes twelve, and it's the end of Jongin's first life. It's the beginning of Joonmyun's endless deaths.  
  
  
  
  
When Jongin wakes up, he's no longer in the nursery of the orphanage from his previous life. In fact, he is in a completely different universe now, one in which he is the youngest member of a nuclear family, living in a mortgaged house with a white picket fence. As he will learn through living his twisted abomination of a life, Jongin never wakes up in normal places. He's not in bed when he opens his eyes. In fact, he's no longer an infant, but rather a toddler in the middle of a game of tag.   
  
It's the first time that Jongin is old enough to be conscious of his surroundings. Perhaps there were lives between this one and the first one in the orphanage, but he doesn't remember. Or they may have never happened at all.   
  
He doesn't have any idea why he's running, but his feet automatically propel him towards the little black haired boy in front of him, who is laughing breathlessly as he tries to slip away from Jongin's reach. But then the boy suddenly staggers to a halt and leans over with his hands gripping his knees. He hacks out a cough much too severe for his small body frame, bright scarlet liquid spattering on the spotless sidewalk. He starts wheezing, and the clunky heart monitor attached to the waistband of his shorts goes crazy.   
  
"Joonmyun!" a woman screams as she rushes over to where the little boy named Joonmyun has collapsed onto the cement.   
  
His body starts convulsing, and Jongin can do nothing but watch on in horror, his toddler mind barely able to comprehend the sight before him. Soon Jongin's eyes are covered by warm, smooth hands.   
  
"Don't look, Jongin... Let mommy take you home now," a woman's voice murmurs, leading Jongin away by the hand.   
  
Jongin looks up at his own mother and asks, "Will he be okay?"  
  
His mother frowns and opens her mouth as if to speak. But then she closes her mouth, choosing her words carefully before saying anything.   
  
"Joonmyun...was born special. It was a miracle that he survived even his first day. No matter what happens, he's lived a good life, and he was lucky to have you as a friend."  
  
Jongin wants to say that he's never seen Joonmyun before, that he doesn't know why he was chasing after him, or how he even wound up in the park, but the longer he lingers in this life, the more real it feels. He has no recollection of his life before this moment, but his cloudy subconsciousness holds vague, wispy memories of holding hands and giggling with the boy sprawled motionless against the hot pavement. It's enough to realize that Joonmyun is his friend, and his friend has stopped breathing and is currently being lifted by stretcher into the back of an ambulance truck.   
  
Joonmyun's body is so small, it forms no more than a little bundle in the middle of stretcher. Jongin starts crying when the doors in the back of the ambulance truck close.   
  
"My friend," he whimpers. "My friend is gone..."  
  
"Shhh, it's going to be okay, Jongin," his mother whispers, lifting him up into his arms. "You'll see him again someday, I promise..."   
  
She pats him on the back as he hiccups and buries his face into her shoulder. He closes his eyes, breathing in his mother's faintly familiar scent.  
  
  
  
  
Jongin opens his eyes, and he's no longer in his mother's arms. He's in the middle of a junkyard, standing slightly taller than he was in his previous life. Jongin blinks, squinting in the oppressive sunlight, trying to figure out why he is surrounded by mountains of scrap metal and rusty old dumpsters.   
  
A head pops out of a nearby dumpster, and Jongin's heart nearly stops because it's the same black-haired boy from his previous life. Joonmyun. He runs over to the dumpster because Joonmyun is his friend and he doesn't want him to get hurt again.   
  
But as Jongin approaches, the boy in the dumpster cries out, "Go away, Jongin!"  
  
Jongin places his hands on the rusted metal walls of the dumpster, tilting his head up to ask, "Why? What are you doing in there?"  
  
The boy's frown deepens into a scowl as he responds, "You called me a piece of trash, remember?"  
  
Jongin doesn't remember, because he had been transported from the previous universe to this one without any semblance of context. Apparently their relationship isn't so sweet in this one. But Jongin's memory bank still contains traces of happy memories with Joonmyun and the tragedy that, in Jongin's eyes, only just occurred. He lost Joonmyun in a previous life, and this, whatever this is, might be a second chance.   
  
"Joonmyun, get out of there!"  
  
"Why, so you can bully me some more?"  
  
There's an uncomfortable tightness in the back of Jongin's throat, as he begs, "Please, Joonmyun. Please come down from there. I'm- I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."  
  
The boy is unyielding. Jongin clings helplessly to the walls of the dumpster, stomping his foot in desperation, begging Joonmyun to get out. But Joonmyun dives back to the bottom of the sea of scrap metal. And soon Jongin hears a low rumbling and sees a giant claw descend from the skies, lifting the dumpster right before his eyes. He screams Joonmyun's name, chasing after the claw until his throat is raw, but the claw continues to empty the contents of the dumpster into a nearby trash compactor. The giant machine presses the mixture of scrap metal and Joonmyun into a neat cube, and Jongin collapses to the ground, unable to see or hear through his own sobs.   
  
He curls into a helpless ball and rocks himself to sleep in the middle of the junkyard.   
  
As Jongin will learn, in some of their lives, he and Joonmyun will be friends. In others, they will be enemies. Sometimes, they might not meet each other at all. Jongin thinks that the worst lives are those when Joonmyun dies before Jongin even gets to see his face.   
  
In his next life, Jongin is old enough to read, but not quite old enough to understand what he's reading. He picks up the newspaper his father left at the breakfast table, sniffing hesitantly at the bitter brown stain splashed across the tiny lettering. Jongin doesn't know many words, but his reading skills are enough to sound out the headline partially obscured by the coffee stain.   
  
"Body of ten year old boy found at bottom of swamp," he reads out loud, haltingly forming the unwieldy syllables.   
  
The rest of the day passes uneventfully, but Jongin can't help but feel as though something is missing.   
  
  
  
  
Such lives that pass without encountering Joonmyun are the worst because it is through these lives that Jongin's memory of Joonmyun fades nearly to nothingness.   
  
There's a commotion outside of Jongin's apartment building, a train of ambulances and police cars lining the block. Jongin’s parents don’t let him leave the apartment when he’s home alone, so he cranes his neck to try and see what is going on outside. There’s a stretcher being wheeled out from the front entrance to the back of an ambulance truck, the prostrate figure obscured by a white sheet. The sight is eerily familiar in a way Jongin can’t quite place.   
  
He turns on the television in case there is anything that might elucidate the situation. Playing in an endless loop on the local news channel is a grainy audio recording of a teenage boy’s voice.   
  
" _Mom...Dad...I'm sorry..._ "  
  
Jongin doesn't know who the voice belongs to, but every time those four words reach his ears, Jongin feels his heart sink a little lower. Finally, the audio recording is cut off by a reporter who gravely announces, "Those were the final words of a fourteen year old boy whose body was found in the closet of his family's apartment at 3:17 this afternoon. The voice message was left on his mother's cellphone about one hour earlier-"  
  
He turns the television off because he can't bear listening to the news report any longer. Jongin tries to ignore the tragedy unfolding in his proximity, but it's difficult when he feels a sadness encasing his heart, drilling deep to his veins. There's an inexplicable, icy dread diffusing through his veins because the boy's voice had sounded so familiar.   
  
Jongin curls up to sleep that night with a name edging in at the tip of his tongue.   
  
  
  
  
In his next life, Jongin is sitting at a long table, surrounded by unfamiliar faces dressed in identical ties and blazers. Jongin looks down and finds that he's wearing one, too. There are trays set before each student containing bowls of rice and other delicious looking entrees, but nobody seems interested in their meals. Instead, everybody at Jongin's lunch table, as well as the rest of the cafeteria is craning towards two figures circling each other in the middle of the dining hall.   
  
There seems to be a hushed exchange between the two boys, one significantly larger than the other. But Jongin can't hear what they're saying over the rowdy shouts of "fight! fight!"  
  
The smaller boy has stopped moving and is slowly approaching the other with his hands lifted, his lips moving as though trying to rationalize with the other. But some bullies can't be reasoned with, and suddenly the larger boy grabs the other, gripping him in a headlock. The cheers grow even louder when the bully procures a switchblade, holding it up for the crowd to see.  
  
The boy in the headlock starts trying to speak again, but the other plunges the knife into his torso and throws him onto the ground, hot scarlet blood splashing onto cold ceramic tiles. The larger boy laughs and kicks him in the ribs, sauntering away, leaving the other boy to writhe in silent agony.   
  
Even when the cafeteria has dispersed, the boy is still laying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, and Jongin vaguely wonders why there haven't been any adults on the premises as he approaches the boy. Underneath the smears of red blood, the boy's skin is deathly pale, his breathing thin and raspy. Jongin's knees are weak, threatening to collapse, as he kneels down to reach for the boy's cadaverous hand.   
  
"What's your name?" Jongin asks shakily.   
  
"J-Joonmyun," is the barely gasped out response.   
  
Jongin squeezes Joonmyun's fingers as the dying boy's chest shudders and his eyes roll towards the back of his head. Jongin swallows thickly, but he feels like his tears have run out.   
  
  
  
  
"Joonmyun," is the first word on his lips the second Jongin comes to consciousness in his next life.   
  
A young man sitting across from him lifts his head and asks pleasantly, "Yes, Jongin?"  
  
Jongin feels like his ribcage has constricted to half its size because the man sitting across from him looks exactly like an older version the boy he had seen being stabbed to death.   
  
Although most of his early memories have faded, Jongin remembers enough to recognize this face. The sight of his face also triggers vague memories that begin to form a pattern. Every day, Jongin wakes up in the middle a new life. The settings are different, the people are different, but there is one thing that always carries over from one life to the next: Kim Joonmyun.   
  
In every life, Joonmyun dies. More often than not, Jongin has to watch him die. And then Jongin closes his eyes, and when he wakes up, he’s in a new life. And the cycle begins again. Sometimes Jongin seems to age between universes, but perhaps the memories of the intermittent lives have already slipped through the cracks of his mind.  
  
“Jongin, yoohoo~” The man is waving his hand in Jongin’s face, trying to get his attention, eyebrows arching in amusement.   
  
Blinking out of his trance, Jongin takes a second to assess his surroundings. He is in another cafeteria, but this one is different from the one he was previously in. Everybody around him is in uniform, but instead of school uniforms, they are outfitted in military garb. He looks down at his own clothing, which has a name patch with “Kim Jongin” embroidered on it. The man sitting across from him looking at Jongin in concern has a name patch that says “Kim Joonmyun”, and there’s another man sitting next to him who is labeled as “Kim Jongdae.”  
  
“Kim Jongin...Kim Joonmyun...Kim Jongdae…” Jongin murmurs to himself, his eyes darting among their badges.  
  
“Very good, Jongin,” remarks the man named Jongdae. “Now you’ve figured out why they call us the Kim J’s.”  
  
“Jongdae…” warns Joonmyun, before turning towards Jongin. “Jongin, are you feeling alright? I know the drills were pretty brutal this morning… Do you want me to ask for another ration of soup?”  
  
"N-no, thank you...Joonmyun." Jongin's heart stutters when the name falls so casually from his lips.  _I watched you die in another life_ , he thinks as the other man's lips pull back in a kind smile.  
  
After lunch, Jongin follows Joonmyun, who is apparently the company leader.   
  
“We just have our routine field survey today,” Joonmyun tells a group of about eleven men gathered before him. “Jongdae, Jongin, and I will be practicing our Desert Wolf formation north of camp. The rest of you will be covering the southern field under the leadership of Sergeant Wu. ”  
  
Joonmyun strolls off, and the rest of the company disperses until only Jongin and Jongdae are left.   
  
“Desert Wolf?” Jongin asks shyly.  
  
Jongdae snickers. “I can’t believe he still keeps calling it that. What a nerd. Remember, it’s the one where he and I go in opposite directions, and you circle the camp with the Humvee.”  
  
“Ahh. Thanks, hyung.”  
  
“No problem.” Jongdae ruffles Jongin’s hair and pulls him along to their dorm room.   
  
Joonmyun cocks an eyebrow when Jongin watches him get dressed, and Jongin blushes. He had only been trying to figure out how to get his own garments on.   
  
When they are outside of camp, Joonmyun gathers Jongin and Jongdae outside the Humvee for a unit meeting.   
  
“Enemy movements are currently under surveillance, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. But in case of an emergency, you know what to do.” Joonmyun looks expectantly at Jongdae, who nods in affirmation, and then at Jongin who stares back blankly.   
  
“Remember, Jongin,” he says patiently. “Just keep driving in circles around camp. Jongdae and I will keep touch via radio.” He pats them both on the shoulder with a fond smile and sticks his hand out, palm down.  
  
“Really, hyung,” Jongdae scoffs. Joonmyun nudges him in the rib until Jongdae places his hand on top, and Jongin follows suit.  
  
“We are one!” Joonmyun exclaims and lifts his hand into the air. Jongdae half-asses his enthusiastic whoop, and Jongin lifts his own hand a beat too late.  
  
Joonmyun’s lips press into a line. “Let’s try to do better next time,” he says, trying to stay upbeat.  
  
They are surrounded by nothing but shades of tan. All Jongin can see as he drinks in his dry surroundings is vast stretches of dirt and sand, dust storms obscuring the distant horizons. Joonmyun and Jongdae trot off in opposite directions as planned, and Jongin watches them until they fade into the dust.   
  
Somehow, instinct takes over and Jongin manages to maneuver the Humvee in a wide arc, concentrically circling the campsite. Every few minutes either Joonmyun or Jongdae's voice will crackle on the radio, reporting any findings. For the first hour of patrol, they find little else other than dirt, dust, and sand.   
  
But suddenly, Joonmyun's voice comes on the radio, high and panicked. "Jongin... Jongdae....there are landmines everywhere over here. I set one off, and I think.... I think I hear the enemy troops coming. Jongin, go pick up Jongdae right now and take him back to the camp. Ask for reinforcements, but don't let anyone leave the campsite."  
  
"YOU IDIOT! WHAT ABOUT YOU!" Jongdae screams through his headset.   
  
Jongin is frozen, his knuckles white against the the steering wheel.   
  
"Jongdae, I promised mom and dad I would take care of you. Don't worry about me. I'm...done." There is a shuddery breath, but Jongin can't tell which soldier it is from.   
  
Joonmyun continues sternly, "Jongin, drive east and find Jongdae. Now. That's a direct order."  
  
He can't let Joonmyun die. Not again. But then there are garbled shouts and gunshots over the radio, and then a heart stopping, staticky silence. And once again, there is nothing Jongin can do.   
  
"Come and fucking get me," Jongdae hisses, letting out a growl of anguish and frustration.   
  
The sound of Jongdae's furious, ragged breathing and Joonmyun's terrible silence seeps out of the speaker in tendrils, enveloping Jongin like a poisonous gas until he feels like he can't breathe. He steps on the gas pedal and steers east towards Jongdae's location.   
  
Jongin slams on the brakes as soon as Jongdae's silhouette comes into vision. The dust is so thick that he can't see that the soldier's cheeks are streaked with tears until Jongdae crawls into the vehicle. The drive back to camp is tense and horribly quiet. But just as they reach the outskirts of the camp, the radio crackles back to life.   
  
"Jongdae..." Joonmyun's voice croaks, faint and distant sounding. "Take care of mom and dad for me. Be a good boy... Jongin... I-"   
  
But then there is the sound of another gunshot, and the radio is silent once more, not even a crackle to indicate any sign of life.   
  
  
  
  
Jongin's life is a waking nightmare. He doesn't know how many more times he can watch Joonmyun die. Because in some lives, they fall in love.   
  
"They can't see us here, Jongin, it's okay," a voice whispers in his ear. The cramped space they're situated in is too dim for Jongin to see who's talking, but Joonmyun's voice is unmistakable. Jongin feels smooth, slender fingers grip his. “As long as my father doesn’t find out about us, we’ll be fine.”  
  
Jongin feels soft kisses being pressed along his neck. “We just have to wait a little bit longer,” Joonmyun murmurs into his skin. “Once Jongdae is old enough to bear the responsibilities of the crown, we can disappear to a place where we don’t have to hide. I promise.”  
  
But promises mean nothing, because Jongin already knows how this will end.   
  
Shy fingers toy with the hem of Jongin’s suit jacket, as warm breaths fan across his neck.   
  
The door rattles and slams open, flooding the dark closet with blinding light.   
  
"Freeze!" a deep-voiced man booms. "Kim Joonmyun, step out of the closet."  
  
Joonmyun squeezes Jongin's fingers and steps away, placing a hand on his chest to prevent Jongin from following him.   
  
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but my father is the most powerful man in the nation-"  
  
"Oh, I know," the man sneers. "He's the one who sent me."  
  
Before Jongin can make a move, there's a flash of black metal and a deafening bang!, and Joonmyun crumples lifelessly to the floor.  
  
The man grins wolfishly and says, "Some bodyguard you are, eh?" before pointing the gun at Jongin and sliding his finger onto the trigger.   
  
At this point, Jongin would welcome death if it meant never having to watch Joonmyun die again.   
  
Jongin closes his eyes and takes a deep, calm breath. He hears the second gunshot before he feels it. There is a sharp impact to the center of his forehead that quickly becomes a dull, throbbing pain.   
  
  
  
  
"Jongdae!" a familiar voice scolds. "Apologize to your babysitter!"  
  
Jongin blinks and realizes that he has transported to a new parallel universe, a new life, again. Not even death could provide him with an escaped from the cursed cycle. This time, he's sitting cross-legged on a colorful carpet, surrounded by toy trains, building blocks, and children's books scattered around him.   
  
There is a little boy sitting next to him, grinning cheekily with a toy frying pan in hand. Crouching nearby is a young man frowning disapprovingly at the boy.   
  
"I apologize for my baby brother," the man says. "My parents spoiled him way too much. Now that I'm in charge, I should really try to rein in his behavior."  
  
Barely able to form words, Jongin mumbles, "It's okay... Jongdae is...a good kid..."  
  
"You think so?" The bright grin Jongin receives in response is blinding. "No wonder Jongdae seems to love you."  
  
Joonmyun looks so happy that Jongin wants to cry. Because he knows what will happen next. What will always inevitably happen before midnight in every life, every universe.   
  
"Jongin, do you want me to drive you home? So you don't have to walk home in the rain," Joonmyun appends hastily.   
  
And because Jongin knows what will happen and wants to do everything in his power to prevent it, Jongin refuses. Even though Joonmyun looks crestfallen at the refusal, all Jongin wants is for Joonmyun to stay at home with Jongdae and make it through the day.   
  
When Jongin reaches for the doorknob, he receives a tap on the shoulder from behind. Joonmyun smiles shyly and hands him an umbrella with a loud yellow taxicab print. It's an attention-grabber, not necessarily in a good way, but Jongin accepts it gratefully nonetheless.   
  
He opens the door, and a black streak of fur darts out between his legs and out into the middle of the busy, rainy street.   
  
"Eureurongie!" Jongdae shrieks, rushing out the door, shoving past Jongin to sprint after the puppy.   
  
Jongin drops his umbrella and runs after the boy who has slipped on the slick gravel, stumbling to his knees in the middle of the street with his fists curled tightly around the puppy's hind legs. Jongin's feet splash through the puddles in the road as he reaches the boy and the puppy, bending down to pick them up.   
  
But then there's a blaring honk of a truck hurtling straight towards Jongin and Jongdae, the driver unable to maneuver out of the lane to avoid the boys. Jongin tries to drag himself off the road, still clutching onto Jongdae, but he is roughly shoved aside, out of harm's way.   
  
When Jongin turns back to find the source of the shove, he doesn't have to look far, because Joonmyun is sprawled on the pavement, the heavy downpour cleansing ribbons of blood away from his skin.   
  
"Don't look," he whispers to Jongdae, who starts sobbing softly and burying his face into Jongin's side. But Jongin himself is unable to tear his eyes away from Joonmyun, whose skin is luminous and pristine, even in death.   
  
Jongin wishes in a moment of delirious anguish that if Joonmyun has to die every day, that he would return to doing so before coming into contact with Jongin. Because even though Jongin has seen it happen countless times, it still hurts. And the pain is even greater the more attached Jongin becomes.   
  
  
  
  
For the first time in all his lives, Jongin wakes up in bed. He rubs his eye with his knuckle, but freezes when he feels something smooth and cold brush against his eyelid. There’s a slim golden band on his left ring finger.   
  
He shifts his weight so that he’s facing the other side of the bed, where he sees Joonmyun with his eyes closed, hands tucked angelically between his cheek and his pillow.   
  
Jongin smiles, because the start of this life isn’t bad at all. He scooches himself closer to Joonmyun and leans in to press a kiss in the middle of Joonmyun’s forehead. But Joonmyun’s skin is icy cold. And he isn’t breathing.  
  
With an incoherent wail, Jongin leaps out of bed and presses himself against the wall, his chest heaving erratically. That’s when he sees the empty pill bottles littered on the carpet by Joonmyun’s side of the bed.   
  
The only way for Jongin to escape is for him to fall asleep again, so he shakingly crawls back into bed and presses his face into his pillow, which still smells like Joonmyun.   
  
  
  
  
When he wakes up, the sky is dark, but the street is bathed in red lights and crowded with unsavory characters. Jongin warily weaves his way through the shuffling mass, trying to ignore the stench suffusing from certain individuals.   
  
“Hey! You!”   
  
Jongin looks around, trying to find the source of the voice, which is warm, rich, and clear, but soft around the edges.  
  
He sees a slim young man leaning against a lamp post. The young man flicks his blond bangs out of his eyes, and it takes a moment for Jongin to recognize him because Joonmyun has never appeared blond before. But his soft brown eyes are unmistakable.   
  
“You look like you want to have a good time,” Joonmyun slurs, grabbing Jongin by the collar. He leans in close to whisper, “Lucky for you, I’m free for the night. Well, not  _free_. But for you, I’d be willing to negotiate my usual price.”  
  
Jongin wrestles himself free of Joonmyun’s grasp because this is not how he wants this to happen. He doesn’t want to buy Joonmyun. He loves him too much to do that.   
  
Joonmyun’s eyes are full of hurt at the perceived rejection. “Please,” he breathes. “How about for an hour. Half an hour. Please I need this.”  
  
But Jongin shakes his head silently, stepping away from Joonmyun.   
  
“Suho,” growls a voice from behind Jongin. A sinister looking man grabs Joonmyun and demands, “Did you get another customer?”  
  
“I-I tried,” Joonmyun whimpers. “I tried to get him, but…” He points at Jongin, who isn’t sure if he should flee or stay.   
  
“Well?  _Tried_  doesn’t mean anything. Yes or no, Suho.”  
  
“N-no.”  
  
The man shoves Joonmyun into the grimy pavement, and Jongin rushes forward to catch his fall. Joonmyun clings to Jongin's side, who shields him from the attacker. But then the man pulls out a knife and stabs Jongin in the inner thigh, narrowly missing his groin.   
  
Jongin doubles over, and the man takes the opportunity to grab Joonmyun once more.   
  
"Beat it punk," he snarls.   
  
"Let him go," Jongin demands, trying to sound braver than he feels.   
  
"This is between the two of us. This whore owes me more money than he's worth. Take a step closer, and I'll get rid of him for good."  
  
But Jongin doesn't move, so the man presses the blade of his knife to Joonmyun's eyebrow, forming a gash that stretches to the bridge of his nose. Joonmyun's eyes are screwed shut, and he's biting his lip to keep from screaming out.   
  
"I warned you..." The man plunges the knife into Joonmyun's throat with a sadistic chuckle.   
  
Thankfully, Jongin passes out on the spot.   
  
  
  
  
He wakes up in another bed, this one narrower than the one before, with enough space for only one person. The bed is warm and comfortable, and Jongin has been through so fucking much, so he just buries his face in his pillow and lets out a shuddering sob.   
  
Jongin feels a dip in his bed and fingers combing through his hair, so he lifts his head and comes face to face with Joonmyun who is looking at him with concern in his chestnut eyes, his blond hair damp and stringy from his shower. Jongin's eyes glance immediately to the faint scar between Joonmyun's eyebrow and nose. He doesn’t ever remember seeing a scar there before.  
  
"Do you miss your family again?" Joonmyun asks quietly. His words and his countenance suggest that this is something they've gone through dozens of times together already.   
  
But Jongin shakes his head, his eyes trying to drink in every inch of Joonmyun before he loses him once again.   
  
Joonmyun frowns. "Is it one of the members then? Did Baekhyun say something mean to you? I've told him to watch his mouth, but you know how he can be..."  
  
"N-no, hyung. It's nothing like that." Jongin speaks carefully, hesitantly. "I missed...you."  
  
There are question marks in Joonmyun's eyes. "Jongin, we've seen each other basically every day for the better part of the past decade. And yesterday after rehearsal you seemed pretty happy to get out of my sight."  
  
Jongin is unable to articulate his thoughts, unable to express that he's not feeling sad because he can't see Joonmyun. In fact, it is the sight of Joonmyun that is causing him so much agony in the first place. Because when Jongin sees Joonmyun's face, all he can think of is how many times he has seen Joonmyun die. And how he has never been able to save him a single time.   
  
He reaches out for Joonmyun's wrist. "Can you stay with me?" he asks quietly.   
  
Joonmyun looks torn. "Jongin, it's way past time for you to get out of bed."  
  
"Please," Jongin croaks, tears welling up in his eyes once more.   
  
Alarmed at Jongin's sudden fragility, Joonmyun concedes, "Alright, just this once since we don't have any schedules or performances today."  
  
Jongin presses himself against the wall to make room for Joonmyun. They're laying in the bed facing each other, and Joonmyun reaches for Jongin's hands to lace their fingers together.   
  
"Is there anything you want to talk about?"  
  
Jongin shakes his head. "Close your eyes," he says softly.   
  
Joonmyun flashes him a confused glance before his eyelids flutter shut. When his eyes close, Jongin leans in to press their lips together, stealing a soft, chaste kiss. Joonmyun's eyes snap open, and he makes a startled sound that is muffled by their joined lips.   
  
But Jongin begins moving his lips insistently, and Joonmyun's mouth goes slack, allowing him entrance.   
  
When Jongin pulls away, Joonmyun looks more heartbreakingly confused than ever. "Why, Jongin?" he breathes.   
  
"I...love you, Joonmyun." Jongin inhales deeply, but his exhale comes out as a sob, and Joonmyun squeezes his hands even more tightly.   
  
"Hey, Jongin... Um I guess it's okay if you want to stay in bed a little longer... I'm sure manager hyung will understand..."  
  
"Don't leave me..." Jongin whispers.   
  
"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here with you..."  
  
  
  
  
When Jongin wakes up, he's no longer in the dorm room. He's in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, but it's not foreign in a hostile way. Jongin feels strangely at home in the place.   
  
There's a man sleeping next to him, with his hand curled around Jongin's waist. He looks just like Joonmyun, and Jongin's first thought is that he's failed. Again.   
  
Jongin stares at the man, the questions firing off in his head. How many years has Jongin skipped between lives, and why does this Joonmyun look so much older than the last one? What happened to the Joonmyun from the previous life? Jongin's stomach clenches as he wonders how Joonmyun had died and why Jongin couldn't save him again.   
  
Because of Jongin's squirming, Joonmyun soon wakes up, too.   
  
"Morning, sunshine," he mumbles with a sleepy smile.   
  
Jongin doesn't know how else to find out, so he blurts, "Who - and what - are we?"  
  
Joonmyun blinks at him, confused. "Are you okay? You didn't drink last night after we got home, did you?"  
  
"Humor me," Jongin begs, his throat dry. "Please."  
  
"Okay..." Joonmyun agrees doubtfully. "Your name is Kim Jongin. My name is Kim Joonmyun. I'm 33. You're 30. We met years and years ago while training to be in a boy band called EXO. We shared a dorm room a lot, and one time you were crying in bed and then we kissed, and yeah... Those were some of the best and worst years of our life. Now we’re living together because I like you a lot, and I’m pretty sure you like me, too."  
  
He smiles fondly and closes his eyes, leaning in to bump the tip of his nose against Jongin's.   
  
"You're cute when you're sleepy and disoriented," Joonmyun mumbles, cutely rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.   
  
Jongin doesn't know what to say or think. As far as he's figured out, he's still in the same life as the one he woke up in previously. But the most important thing is that Joonmyun is still alive. He's about ten years older than when Jongin last saw him, but it's still the same Joonmyun who had comforted him and crawled into bed with him. He wishes that he hadn't missed an entire decade of this life, but all that matters is that Joonmyun is alive.   
  
Reluctantly, Jongin allows Joonmyun to pull him out of bed so they can take on their roles as normal, functioning humans.   
  
"Trust me, if we could spend the rest of our lives laying in bed together, I'd do it in a heartbeat," Joonmyun assures him.   
  
Jongin watches in wonder as Joonmyun makes them breakfast while still in his pajamas. It's lazy and carefree and comfortable, nothing like what Jongin is used to. He's used to being on high alert all the time, dread perpetually at the edges of his gut.   
  
After they both get changed, Joonmyun hands him a duffle bag containing a change of clothes, a towel, and some toiletries.   
  
"Jongin," he sighs. "Just let me get your stuff ready in the future, okay? I checked your bag, and you forgot to pack underwear, again."  
  
Jongin accepts the bag with a blush. Sounds about right.   
  
They walk to the bus stop together. When they are out of the comfort and privacy of their own home, Joonmyun is careful to keep a safe distance between them. On the bus, they sit next to each other, the barest brush of their knees the only form of contact between them.   
  
"Here's your stop coming up, Jongin," Joonmyun mutters under his breath. “I’m filming from noon to six today, so if you want, I can make dinner tonight.” And then in an even quieter whisper, “I love you.”  
  
He gives Jongin’s fingers a brief squeeze, and then Jongin exits the bus, arriving in front of a small building with his name printed on the window by the front door: Kim Jongin Dance Studio. He pushes open the glassy door, which tinkles as he enters. A man reclining at the receptionist’s desk looks up with a grin when Jongin steps inside.  
  
“Jongin!” he greets cheerfully.  
  
“Hey...Lay,” Jongin responds, squinting at the man’s name badge.  
  
But the man just laughs, “Don’t be silly. You can call me Yixing now. Lay is just for our students, remember?"  
  
"Oh...yeah..."  
  
"Are you feeling alright, Jongin? Joonmyun-hyung texted me saying that you seemed kind of out of it this morning."  
  
This takes Jongin by surprise, although it probably shouldn't, seeing how thoughtful and considerate Joonmyun had been to him in this life already.   
  
"No, everything's fine... I just...really love Joonmyun-hyung."  
  
Yixing smiles understandingly in return. "We all do. Although, you seen to have lucked out, seeing that Joonmyun seems to like you back the most."  
  
For the first time in all his lives, Jongin's life makes sense. Running the dance studio and teaching classes feels so natural, as if Jongin has spent his entire life on hardwood floors and in front of mirrored walls. He wishes he could do this for the rest of his life, however long this one may last.   
  
Returning home to Joonmyun stirring a pot of soup with a pair of chopsticks also feels so natural and familiar. Joonmyun recounts some amusing events that transpired throughout the day on set, and then eagerly listens while Jongin tells him about his own day.   
  
Jongin is reluctant to go to bed, because he has no idea where he will be when he wakes up. Even though Joonmyun survived the first time Jongin was transported to this life, there’s no guarantee that Jongin will remain in it.   
  
So when they crawl under the sheets together, Jongin grabs Joonmyun's hand tight and doesn't let go.   
  
"Jongin... Are you alright?" Joonmyun places his other hand around the back of Jongin's neck, his fingers softly trailing through Jongin's hair.   
  
"I just...want you to be here when I wake up," Jongin mumbles, acutely aware of how odd his words might sound to Joonmyun.   
  
His hunch is correct, because Joonmyun's eyes fly open in alarm.   
  
"What? Of course I'll still be here. I promise..."  
  
Joonmyun squeezes Jongin's hand, but doesn't let go, for which Jongin is silently grateful. Jongin tries to fight his sleepiness as long as possible in dread of losing this life with Joonmyun. He wishes that he could make this moment last forever. But eventually sleep prevails, and Jongin is lost once more to the darkness in his mind.   
  
  
  
  
When he wakes up, his fingers are still entwined with Joonmyun's, who is watching him with soft eyes and a lazy grin.   
  
"I told you, I always keep my promises."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by "Metamorphosis One", a piece for solo piano by Philip Glass. He basically takes a pattern of notes and repeats it for the entire piece, but in a way that keeps the music moving forward despite the repetition.


End file.
